


hold my heart, help me scream

by oceanknives



Series: tour bus diaries [2]
Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: Fig is there for him, Gen, Gorgug deals with trauma, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Post Sophomore Year, i love their friendship so much....
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:13:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25072909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceanknives/pseuds/oceanknives
Summary: Sometimes, Gorgug closes his eyes and sees dirt and bugs. Sometimes, he wishes he could scream.
Relationships: Figueroth Faeth & Gorgug Thistlespring
Series: tour bus diaries [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815829
Comments: 18
Kudos: 83





	hold my heart, help me scream

**Author's Note:**

> TW for depiction of panic attacks and PTSD.

The fans are so close. Gorgug is at the back of the stage, hidden behind his drums and Fig's voice and yet he feels like the crowd is almost crawling on him, their screams grating his ears like the song of cicadas. His hands tighten around his drumsticks, and he blinks tears away as he tries to keep track of the rhythm. Fuck.

* * *

The dressing room is so small. Gorgug knows, rationally, that the venue is small and that this place has to hold mirrors and tables and chairs and costumes and that he is  _ fine _ but he still feels like the walls are going to close in on him and he has never felt as brittle. He is shaking when he takes off his sweat-soaked shirt — _from the show, not the panic_ — and he is crying when he wipes off the eyeliner that has already faded — _from the sweat, not the tears._ Fuck. Fuck.

* * *

He can't breathe. He sleeps on the bottom bunk because that's what he did last time they went on tour, because he used to believe home was in small spaces, because the tree had always grown around him. But now, God, now, every time he blinks the mattress above him becomes the Nightmare Forest's ground and the blanket resting over him becomes a tunnel and he's in there again, he's crawling again and his ribs are stuck again and his lungs are empty again and he's going to die this time, fuck, fuck, fuck, he has to get out, get out, get out of here, he can't stay here, can't stay, dying here, shit -

The air outside still smells like dirt. The sky is wide open above his head and yet he still feels like he's choking, like he's too big, limbs filling the universe at odd angles, elbow stuck in his chest and knees behind his teeth. Part of him wants to curl up into a ball, part of him can't stand the idea of touching more than absolutely necessary. The ground under his feet feels like it want to swallow him.

A voice rises behind him, and he winces -  _ don't fill the silence, fuck, not enough emptiness around. _

"Gorgug ? You okay ?"

He should have known Fig would still be awake.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine." Gorgug's voice is shaky. He's never been the best at lying.

"Can I- can I help ?" Fig's voice is small, as if she knows. Maybe she does.

"Uh, yeah. Can you… can you stay away from me ? Don't leave, just. Don't get close. I can't… I can't."

He looks behind him and sees Fig nod, and take a step back. They haven't talked about it, not really, not yet, but she gets it. Wordlessly, she waves a hand, and Gorgug feels himself become lighter, until his feet leave the ground.

It gets easier almost right away. Not easy, but. Easier. He closes his eyes and there is only air around him, on his face, in his lungs, breathe in, breathe out. He doesn't know how much time he spends like this, floating, expanding. He doesn't try and keep track. He forgets about rhythm.

He forgets about rhythm, but still, as steady as the beat of his heart, he knows Fig is still here, shivering, probably, she's always cold, adrenaline rush crashing and all. When he starts talking, he knows someone is here to listen.

"I haven't slept a single night in my bedroom since we came back from the Forest."

It  had been 3 months. Fig doesn't say anything about that.

"Where did you sleep ?"

"In the Hangvan. I kept the doors open. I looked at the stars."

A breath. A small smile appears on his face.

"I looked for my satellite."

The smile falls. 

"But now it's - fuck. I didn't think it was that bad."

"Yeah. I know."

Gorgug opens his eyes, and sees Fig looking at him, her eyebrows drawn together. Worried. 

"It's like, every night, right, the rooms get smaller and smaller, and I'm back there, and they sound like bugs, now, the fans, how fucked up is that ? I can barely keep time. Sometimes my drumsticks feel like tree roots. It feels stupid. I _like_ going on tour."

"It's not stupid, Gorgug." Fig's voice gets smaller. "Sometimes, on stage, I feel like I'm watching myself perform. Like I'm only really myself when people aren't looking at me. And even then, I still hear voices."

"That - this is going to sound bad, but that's good to hear."

Fig smiles.

"It truly is."

More silence - needed. Gorgug closes his eyes again, light, for the first time since… well, forever. The bloodrush field didn't count. Nothing felt light that day.

"This is all very fucked up, isn't it ?"

Fig bursts out laughing.

"Fuck, yeah, yeah. It's  _ so _ fucked up."

They both laugh, lost in the night of an unknown town, seen only by a moon who didn't know them before. They laugh because they're nervous, because they're tired, because they're sad, because they need it.

"I get so angry, sometimes. About it all. About Aguefort and about this school and about all the monsters and the ancient Gods and the fact that I died on my first day of highschool and that I have had to worry about my friends dying since." His voice breaks on those last words. Shit. He was right to be worried. Thank fuck magic is real.

"You're allowed to be angry. I'm angry too."

Gorgug hadn't cried like that in a long time. For once, he's not on a stage and he's not a performer and he's not on the bottom bunk trying to let the world rest. For once, he can cry without holding his chest back.

"I just - shit, Fig, sometimes I'm so scared of it. Of how angry I can get. I killed people. I - I fully killed people. I have an axe that most people can't even lift and I used it to kill people. I go into a rage and I kill people."

Fig knows this, of course - she killed people too, and she was there when Gorgug's hoodie became permanently stained with someone's blood for the first time. And yet, it still feels like a confession. 

Forgive me, my friend, for I have killed.

Of course, she forgives.

"We - we had to, Gorgug. It's awful and fucked up and terrible but we had to. And you… I know you. You're not a bad person, Gorgug. We all get angry. Rage is not anger. You… you can be angry without raging."

Gorgug thinks he's about to choke on his words.

"I don't think I know how to."

The words rest heavy and he can hear the "I don't know what to say" waiting to drop, the curse of vulnerability without understanding he had to live with his entire life. The rhythm comes back in the air, and he can pinpoint when Fig will speak, when she will say the words, almost, almost -

"I can show you." Gorgug turns to look at her. "I mean, I get it. I was -  _ am _ \- pretty angry. And sometimes it's… too much. And it feels like I'm going to explode if I don't do anything about it. But sometimes I'm just angry. I think we should just be angry."

A pause.

"You  _ do _ get it."

* * *

Fig takes him further into the empty field until the horizon feels flat and tells him to yell.

And so he does. He yells and screams until his lungs press against his ribs and his heart presses back, until his voice breaks on most words, until he becomes thankful their next show is a few days away and he doesn't need to sing that much.

He yells until the flying spell stops and he lands back on the ground and doesn't notice and keeps yelling. He yells until the silence has been so filled of him that it can't hurt anymore. He yells until he's sure the world knows him, and he knows it back.

Fig yells with him.

There is something about feeling anger and being okay with it. Throwing it out of yourself and not having it land on someone else. Just feeling, and then not feeling.

Without destruction.

* * *

Gorgug takes the top bunk, and they lose their insurance for the bus when they carve a makeshift window above his head.

Fig becomes very good at casting the fly spell.

They drink honeyed tea and get a steam inhaler.

The panic attacks are still there, but Gorgug researches therapists (and promptly sends a list of numbers to the rest of the Bad Kids.)

Gorgug keeps wearing baggy clothes he never fills completely. He can breathe.

He keeps track of the rhythm.

* * *

"He's so annoying, Fig. I can't fucking believe he just bailed on me like that! The semester has been hell and this asshole just leaves me to do everything! I'm so mad. I'm _so_ mad."

Fig's voice crackles on the other end of his crystal, and Gorgug can tell she's holding back a laugh.

"Yeah, no, for real, that's awful. But  _ come on _ , you had to know he was going to pull something like that."

Gorgug sighs.

"Yeah. Yeah. I'm done trusting morons."

"Damn, can't believe you decided to stop trusting all the Bad Kids."

Gorgug bursts out laughing, and lays his hand on the horns and husks tattooed on his neck - the old Fig & the Sig Figs logo.

"Yeah. Exactly. You heard it right. Okay, I have to go for real, this assignment is going to kick my ass."

"Bye, Gorgug. Don't let college kill your spirit."

Feeling, and then not feeling.

**Author's Note:**

> This one goes out to Izzy and Aden. You both planted this idea in my head and I had no choice but write it. Love y'all.
> 
> Also - I know the fly spell isn't a bard spell, but I don't care <3


End file.
